


Unicorns Be Stalkin'

by Silverlyte



Series: A Trickster & His Dragon [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Attempt at Humor, M/M, Minor Gabriel/Sam Winchester, Not Canon Compliant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:01:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27905629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silverlyte/pseuds/Silverlyte
Summary: Living with Gabriel, it was always a gamble on what would be awaiting their return.Some days, nothing would seem amiss. Not a hair out of place 'till Dean went to dump sugar into his cereal and it magically dissolved into salt along the way. Or he opened his drawers to find all his shirts neon, pants replaced with hot pink short-shorts.Other days?Other days there'd be a freaking horse in the garage.--- Aka a unicorn takes a liking to Cas, Dean is not at all jealous (shut up, Sam), and a dragon keeps eating all the pie.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: A Trickster & His Dragon [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2046191
Comments: 3
Kudos: 5





	Unicorns Be Stalkin'

**Author's Note:**

> ~I do not own Supernatural or any of its characters. Do not translate or post elsewhere.~  
> Here's to the comment that asked me to do a sequel with Dean and Cas. :)

Living with Gabriel, it was always a gamble on what would be awaiting their return.   
  


Some days, nothing would seem amiss. Not a hair out of place 'till Dean went to dump sugar into his cereal and it magically dissolved into salt along the way. Or he opened his drawers to find all his shirts neon, pants replaced with hot pink short-shorts.

  
Other days? 

  
Other days there'd be a freaking horse in the garage. 

  
"What the hell," It's all Dean manages, his fingers gripping tighter around the steering wheel, "There's a _horse._ " 

  
In the garage.   
  
  
Where his Baby goes.   
  


Where _horses_ most certainly do not.

  
Especially not ones that look like they'd sooner trample everyone in sight than be saddled up and paraded about. 

  
He might not know much about farm animals but he's pretty damn sure they aren't supposed to have red, glowing eyes. 

  
Or fangs.

  
He's even more sure it's a bad sign when said glowing-eyed, fanged _thing_ is glaring right at them, its hooves stomping the ground.   
  


"The horn would indicate it's a unicorn," Cas is squinting at the windshield when Dean slowly turns his gaze towards the passenger seat. There's a curious lilt to his voice when he adds, head tilting to the left, "I had not realized they still existed."  
  
  
_Still exist?_  
  
  
_Woah, now hold on a moment. What did he mean **still**_?  
  


"Unicorns, Cas? Really?" Dean snorts. From the corner of his vision he sees as the horse, almost in answer, jerks its head higher. It makes the light gleam off of something unmistakably long and curving up from between its ears and yeah - that's a horn alright.  
  


Huh. "There's uh- there's no such thing?"  
  
  
This has gotta be another one of Gabriel's tricks. An illusion. Nothing else could have gotten through the wards.   
  


Cas' head turns towards him, a crease forming between his brows. "There was a time when you said the same of angels."   
  
  
Dean scowls. "That's different." He doesn't know how but it is, okay? Angels were one thing. But unicorns? Come on. "They're just fairy tales. Made up for little girls who want to grow up into prince-"  
  
  
The sound of hooves striking hard and fast against the ground echoes for a moment, deafeningly loud  
  


There's gaping cracks left behind where they met the concrete. 

  
Ears ringing, Dean most certainly does _not_ jump. His head whipping around to stare, wide eyed and gaping. The thing glowers back at him with eerily red eyes, and pools unease low in his stomach. 

  
There's a beat of silence, and then-   
  
  
"It would appear to disagree with you." Cas says it in that perfectly calm, perfectly collected tone Dean vaguely recognizes as him being a sassy little shit.   
  


He's more focused on the dawning realization that a _freaking unicorn_ just broke the floor, and if it could do that, what would happen if it decided to charge his Baby? Which is why he doesn't notice Cas reaching for the door handle until its too late. 

  
By the time his mouth opens to protest, Cas has already shut the passenger door and is making his way into the garage with all the composure of a man not about to get flattened by some gothic princess' fantasy. 

  
Cursing, Dean scrambles to follow after him.   
  
  
He makes it as far as getting his door open, one foot out on the gravel, fingers fumbling for a handgun that's not there; he must have left it in the trunk. 

  
"You should stay in the car," Cas doesn't so much as glance back, just keeps heading forward; he sounds oddly fascinated, and Dean hesitates. There's something calming about that tone. If Cas doesn't think it's all that dangerous than-  
  


"Unicorns are creatures of carnage. Their horns are used for the disemboweling of humans in order to feed on their intestines." Cas continues, "It makes The Last Unicorn movie rather unsettling to watch." 

  
Well that's just. Great. Fantastic. _Disgusting._ He knows how people eat; what'd want to feed on that shit? _  
  
  
_Huffing, Dean drops his hands but he doesn't move to close the door. Instead, he watches as Cas reaches his hand out, slow and steady. 

  
The unicorn's nearly as tall as him, the tops of its ears leveled with his shoulder, and when its lips draw back, they reveal jagged, pointed teeth.  
  


The noise it makes is closer to a snarl than a whinny.   
  


Cas pays little heed to this, and sets the palm against the side of the unicorn's neck, fingers splayed wide.   
  


Dean expects for it to rear up again. Or for it to tuck its head down and rush at him. And though he knows Cas can heal, knows he can blink out of the way, it still makes the breath catch in the back of his throat.  
  
  
Makes his foot press down harder against the ground outside, muscles coiled tight and ready to spring. He'll be damned - _again_ \- before he lets his angel get run down by some over-aggressive horse with a stick on its head. 

  
Apparently Cas' secretly the great unicorn whisperer, though, because the thing seems to settle beneath the touch, ears pricking up. 

_  
_ It doesn't make Dean feel any better about him being that close to it. 

  
"I thought unicorns were supposed to be glitter and spice and everything nice. You know. Shoot rainbows out their ass, that sort of thing." 

  
The look Cas directs at him is equal parts amused and exasperated, his mouth turned up when he confirms that they do not, in fact, shoot rainbows out of their ass, or anywhere else for that matter.   
  
  
Dean takes a moment to process this. "How do we kill it?"  
  
  
"Unicorns are an old and powerful magic." The unicorn shifts away before pressing its nose into Cas' hand instead. "They are not easily killed."   
  


Why can't anything ever make like the wicked witch, and melt with a bucket of water? "Well, how do we get rid of it?"   
  
  
"I would suggest asking Gabriel." The smile widens as Cas strokes its muzzle, "It is likely he is the reason for its being here." 

  
Of course he was. Leaning back in his seat, Dean sighs loudly.   
  
  
Eyes the so-called creature of carnage as it noses contently against the angel.

  
Cas seems pleased, hands wandering up to pet across its cheeks, his chuckle a low rumble that barely reaches Dean and yet ignites a sliver of warmth in his chest. "How come it seems to like you so much?"  
  
  
The resulting silence is just a touch too long. "You could say we are of... similar virtues."

* * *

As it turned out, a unicorn in the garage was only one of his problems. _  
  
_

"Is that _my pie_?!"   
  
  
Gabriel, at least, has the courtesy to freeze, spoon poised at his mouth, eyes slightly wide. 

  
That is, for all five seconds before, with a smile that's a touch too vicious, he wrapped his lips around the spoon and fucking _moaned_.   
  


If Dean hadn't been disgusted already, he certainly would be when he pulls the spoon from his mouth, winking as he drags his tongue over the back of it.   
  


"What can I say, Dean-o?" His shoulders hitch up as he drops the spoon into the plastic container balanced on top of his thighs; half its contents are gone. "Finders keepers."

  
Dean's about to tell him he'll be a losers, weepers if he doesn't surrender the other half of his pie when he sees _it_. 

  
The head poking out from under Gabriel's elbow, a deep, shimmering blue adorned with stubby bumps on its head and he couldn't be serious-

  
"Ah," Cas, behind him, must see it too. When he steps closer towards the armchair, he's squinting again, expression thoughtful. "The presents of a dragon would explain the unicorn."

  
"There's dragon spit in my pie," Dean says, angst, because its muzzle is burrowed into the corner of the dessert. When it lifts its chin to peer over at them, its still slurping up a large chunk of apple. As soon as its disappeared, so does its attention from them.   
  


"His name is Mushu," Gabriel returns brightly.

  
Much to the apparent delight of 'Mushu', he scoops him up in both of his hands, thrusting him out towards them with all the enthusiasm of a child showing off the kitten they've found scavenging in the trash. 

  
The dragon's wings, tiny and eerily see through, briefly flutter out behind it before tucking against his back. A deep, pleased rumble emitting from his chest as his tail winds around one of the wrists holding him up. 

  
Dean is briefly stricken by the cock of its small, horned head and the half-closed slant of its eyes. The striking shade of its scales that remind him of eyes that are just as blue, just as piercing- 

  
Or at least he is until the thing's mouth opens, yawning out a stream of smoke, grey and curling upwards. 

  
"No." He says, because if there's smoke than there'll be fire, and living with Gabriel is already like having a destructive, unruly pet, "You can't keep that here,"

  
"But just look at him," Gabriel draws his hands back, tucking the dragon protectively tight to his chest, his eyes wide and pleading. 

  
Dean scowls at him in return, wondering where the hell is Sam. He's supposed to be the responsible one here, not him. 

  
"Dean is right," There's a trace of reluctance in Cas' voice that probably has more to do with how long he'd spent lingering in the garage before he finally left the unicorn in it behind, than it does the scrawny, little dragon he's currently frowning at, "It wouldn't be wise,"  
  
  
"Oooh, I wouldn't worry about that, Cassie." Gabriel's smirk is small but dangerous, eyes shining when they cut to his brother, "That little present - that's just for you.. and Dean-o." 

  
A golden gaze flickers towards Dean, and he blinks.

  
He's missed something. He's _still_ missing it because when he glances up, Cas' mouth has thinned. "What?" 

  
Cas' sigh certainly embodies that of a mother being presented a wild, flea-ridden animal and begged to keep it. "It is said that other creatures were once drawn to Dragons. Due to the nature of their protectiveness and tendency to establish hoards, those who might have sought to kill other supernaturals would often steer clear of their territories, and the creatures themselves fed on the dragon's powers." 

  
As far as Dean can tell, the only thing 'Mushu' is protecting is the stolen pie; the one it's currently trying to squirm out of Gabriel's hands to return too. When this proves a futile effort, its head droops, thin wisps of grey floating up from its nose. 

  
It doesn't answer what the hell he meant by _present_. 

  
"What- You mean the unicorn? In _my_ garage?" 

  
Gabriel's grin grows, "You can say it's an early Christmas gift. Don't look so sour about it, Winchester - I've got reigns on the Unicorn; it won't go around killing any of your precious humans. Scouts honor." 

  
He means to tell him he hopes he's got the receipt except than there's Cas-   
  
  
Cas whose mouth is still pursed but he's staring down at his feet now, and there's something about his expression- exasperation but with a trace of... hope, perhaps. 

  
And then all Dean can think about is how fond of the Unicorn he seemed... he'd looked so soft, touching it, soft and heart-wrenchingly happy. Which is exactly what his heart does at the thought of that softness dissolving into disappointment. 

  
Of those same lips that'd been smiling before, twisting into a frown. 

  
Because he'd seen his expression. Saw how he pet the beast's snowy, white fur and brushed back pieces of its silvery mane. He'd seen his hesitance in drawing away, and the way he'd stood and watched the garage door close on it. 

  
How could he possibly squash the hopefulness he sees now? How could he take this away from Cas?

  
Sure, it apparently eats people but... Sam did too for a while. Sort of. 

  
And Gabriel said he has a handle on it.   
  


"Fine," Its snapped out. Dean turns and, reaching out with one hand, snares Cas by the sleeve of his trenchcoat. Starts to drag him towards the door. Cas goes willingly, compliant as always, and pesky warmth floods his chest again. The way it always does when he pulls and Cas just _follows_. 

  
He pauses long enough to point a finger at the archangel. "Just get it out of the garage."

  
And then, "Come on, Cas."

  
"Where are we going?"

  
"To get some pie not contaminated with dragon drool." 

* * *

  
The next morning, Cas isn't in the kitchen.   
  
  
Dean's gaze scans under the table and towards the door to the laundry room, from where he's stalled in the threshold. As if there's a chance that he somehow overlooked a grown, six foot angel in his grog.

  
That he'll be crouched in a corner somewhere, fixated on a bee or a spider whose wandered in. Or sitting in one of the mismatched wooden chairs, sleeves rolled up past his elbows, waiting to greet him with mussed hair and a small smile. 

  
Because that's what they do now. What they've been doing for the last some odd months, whenever they're home and between cases. 

  
Although Cas doesn't need to eat, he trails into the kitchen every morning, just before he does. He'll find him waiting for him, and the realization that today he's not leaves a bitter taste on the back of his tongue. 

  
It doesn't seem right. Stepping into this room and there being no one in it. It feels like a strange, foreign place. 

  
A world that looks exactly the same except for that one thing you know was there is gone, but there's no trace of it, no proof it ever existed. 

  
Which is why he's almost relieved when he spots the apron.

  
It's a pale yellow, dotted with a scattering of little, cartoon-ish bees, and hung neatly on the hook beside of Dean's stained, white one.

  
He'd gotten it for Cas a few weeks prior. Had taken relish in the ginger way Cas accepted it, his smile almost shy and slow to appear when Dean explained all cooks needed an apron.

  
Not that it was a big deal - it was only a piece of cloth. 

  
At least, that's what he'd told him when Cas brought it up to hug against his chest, peering up at him with such earnestness it reddened the tips of Dean's ears when he thanked him. 

  
_Really, Cas, it's long overdue._

  
He'd been teaching Cas how to cook for months by then, after all.

  
Pressing in close behind him as he demonstrated how to flip pancakes; their elbows nearly brushing as they chopped vegetables next to one another; Dean laughing long and hard when he tried to show Cas how to make bread and he ended up with flour in his hair and smeared across his cheek.

  
Cas always making and buttering the toast while Dean scrambled eggs; always setting up the coffee machine while Dean retrieved their mugs.   
  


He'd even taken up drinking his coffee standing next to the counter with him, black, like Dean does his, and doesn't even complain about stuff tastin' of particulars.

  
But Cas isn't here. 

  
The scent of brewing, dark roast doesn't waft through the air. 

  
There's no bread in the toaster, no plates set out across the table. 

  
The jar of organic, fancy as fuck, honey hasn't been pulled down from the cupboard. 

  
It's just quietness and emptiness and for a moment, Dean remains frozen where he was, a knot forming in the pit of his stomach. 

  
He wouldn't have left. Not without telling him. Not without telling him when he'd be _back.  
  
_

They're past that sort of thing. 

  
.... Aren't they? 

  
Wouldn't he have? Told him? Said goodbye?   
  
  
Swallowing against the lump forming in his throat, the buzz of uncertainty ringing in his ears, Dean forces his feet forward. One after the other until he's standing at the counter, reaching up to pull down a set of mugs. 

  
He hesitates before he even manages to get his hands around them, staring up at the dishes with furrowed brows. 

  
He doesn't need two of them. It's only him. But there is something distinctively not right about taking down just one. Another misplaced object in an otherwise identical world.   
  


He's still staring up at the array of cups when he hears the footsteps. The sound loosens his shoulders. "About time. What'd yo-"

  
It's not Cas. 

  
When Dean turns to the side, Sam is looking at him like he's grown another head, eyes narrowed and tired beneath messy hair that's needed a haircut like forever ago. 

  
Considering _he's_ the one with a dragon clinging on to his shoulder, its tail wrapped around his neck like a scarf, Dean's pretty sure he should be the one handing out strange glances.   
  
  
The lump is trying to rise in his throat again but he manages out around it, "You seen Cas?"  
  
  
Another odd look, and Sam's hand rises to absently rub Mushu's head. The dragon makes a chittering sound and tilts his head into it, eyes closed. "Not since last night. I think he was heading behind the house."  
  
  
Behind the- 

  
_The_ _Unicorn._

  
Gabriel had crafted a sheltered area for it out there, though Dean had had some major doubts about it staying put. 

  
Dean's frowning when he turned back towards the cupboards.

  
His chest is oddly hollow. 

  
_It's just breakfast. Dude doesn't have to be here every time._

  
He decides he's not really all that hungry, anyways. 


End file.
